by Aaron Ehasz
Title Page
Map
Prologue
Moon
Chapter 1: Echoes of Thunder
Chapter 2: Old Secrets and New Secrets
Chapter 3: The Last Normal Morning
Chapter 4: No Turning Back
Chapter 5: The Letter and the Serpent
Chapter 6: The Assassin’s Edge
Chapter 7: Change of Soul
Chapter 8: A Loud Mage
Chapter 9: Viren’s Sacrifice
Chapter 10: Runaan’s Mistake
Chapter 11: The Fellowship of the Egg
Chapter 12: A Sleepless Night
Chapter 13: Valley of Graves
Chapter 14: Sad Prince
Chapter 15: Aunt Amaya
Chapter 16: A Monstrous Lie
Chapter 17: Ritual and Coronation
Chapter 18: A Shocking Turn
Chapter 19: A Sweet Tooth and an Iron Fist
Chapter 20: The Rapids
Chapter 21: Wishes and Commands
Chapter 22: The Tracker
Chapter 23: Secret Missions
Chapter 24: The Megaburp of Doom
Chapter 25: Sinking Hope
Chapter 26: The Dagger and the Doctor
Chapter 27: Something Personal and Gross
Chapter 28: Ellis and Ava
Chapter 29: The Cursed Caldera
Chapter 30: Worse Than Death
Chapter 31: Really Bad News
Chapter 32: Ezran’s Gift
Chapter 33: Jerkface
Chapter 34: Wonderstorm
Chapter 35: Hope and Danger
About the Authors
Copyright
Long ago, Xadia was one land, rich in magic and wonder. In the old days, there was only the deep magic, which came from the six primal sources:
The Sun.
The Moon.
The Stars.
The Earth.
The Sky.
The Ocean.
Every living creature in Xadia was born with the gift of magic, a spark inside connected to one of the six primal sources. From the greatest dragon to the smallest insect, magic flowed in their veins.
But humans were different. Humans were flawed. They were born without this gift. Back in ancient times, the humans struggled to survive in the world, while the Xadian creatures thrived. Many humans perished from starvation; others died fighting one another over the scarce resources.
Unicorns were always the most selfless of the Xadian beings. There came a time when, filled with pity, they desperately wanted to help the struggling humans. After all, it was not the humans’ choice to have been born without magic.
But the First Elves were wary. They warned the unicorns that kindness was not always returned with kindness; it would be a mistake to trust the species. After all, if humans were supposed to use magic, they would have been born with it.
However, the unicorns’ compassion ran deep, and they could not be convinced. So, despite the elves’ warning, the unicorns bestowed the ways of magic onto the humans. They gifted a few wise humans with powerful orbs called primal stones, which contained vast magical energy. Then they taught them to draw runes to attract and focus the stones’ power, and to speak the ancient words used by dragons to release that energy as magical spells.
Finally, humans had the ability to take care of themselves and end their own suffering. They fed their hungry, cared for their poor, and healed their sick. As they thrived, they elevated humankind in other ways, learning about the world and the stars and the arts. They created songs and poetry and other beautiful things.
But the elves were right about one thing: Humans were unpredictable. While most were good, some were not. One human mage discovered a new way to use magic that was swift and facile but also dangerous and intense. This method used the essence within magical creatures themselves to unleash incredible power. Some called it new magic or the seventh source—but it came to be known as dark magic.
Dark mages and their followers began to hunt and poach magical creatures throughout Xadia, for they needed fuel for their spells: a griffin’s talon, a feather from a moon phoenix, any part of a creature where magic was concentrated. Perhaps the most valuable and sought-after prize of all was a unicorn’s horn. Eventually, the humans hunted the unicorns until they disappeared completely from Xadia.
The elves and the dragons were disgusted and outraged by what they saw. They were convinced the annihilation of humans was necessary and inevitable.
But at the last moment, a daughter of the elven leader proposed the Merciful Compromise. She asked that humans be allowed to move and settle the lands to the west. Beneath a half moon, the Dragon Queen, who was called Luna Tenebris, rendered judgment that was both cruel and kind. Humans were cast out, but they were spared.
And so, the continent was divided in two.
—Aaravos of the First Elves
Once there was a tribe who worshipped the Great Moon, a beautiful silver disc in the sky.
But one day, the righteous leader looked up and saw that half the moon was gone. “It’s been stolen!” he cried.
The people were enraged. A war party traveled to the village of the neighboring tribe, whom they did not trust.
But the other leader saw things differently. “We stole nothing. The moon is not a silver disc, it is a silver leaf.” She pointed to the sky, as proof. “This is the moon, and it is our moon.”
The leaders each accused the other of lying, and soon the two tribes were at war. Many people died.
One night, both tribes found themselves lost in darkness. The moon had completely vanished. All the people were frightened, until a child spoke up.
“Don’t you see?” the child asked. But the adults could see only darkness. Children do not see with just their eyes; they see with their hearts. “We all live under the same moon.”
Finally understanding, the people stopped fighting.
And the moon smiled.
Torrents of rain poured down the high castle walls in the kingdom of Katolis. The raindrops sounded like pebbles beating against the pane-glass windows. Black storm clouds swirled in the sky, flickering with silent lightning.
Wrapped in a soft blanket, Ezran settled into his four-post bed, his unruly brown hair splayed over his pillow. Ezran’s room was as messy as any eight-year-old’s, but the room itself was grand and royal. The walls and floor were made of finely wrought stone, and the antique wooden furniture boasted delicate carvings of animals and forest scenery. Candles flickered, casting peaceful shadows across the walls.
The brightest light in the room emanated from Bait, Ezran’s pet glow toad. This furless creature slept curled in the nook of Ezran’s elbow; he was the size of a cat but not nearly so cuddly. He kept his slick yellow-and-blue lizard skin close to his master’s side, breathing in sync with the boy.
“Knock, knock! May I come in?” A voice rang from just outside Ezran’s door.
“You’re the king! I don’t think you have to ask,” Ezran called back.
King Harrow stepped into the room.
“Kings don’t have to ask, but dads do,” he said, winking at Ezran. He gave Bait a light pat as he sat on the edge of the bed.
The tiny monster grumbled a complaint, but secretly appreciated the affection. Bait was a loyal pet, but like most of his species, he was perpetually grumpy, a consequence of the fact that just about every wild animal larger than a glow toad considered glow toads delicious.
The king reached up and adjusted Ezran’s covers. “Are you comfy cozy?”
“Comfy cozy,” Ezran said. “You can sing now.”
In a soft voice, the king sang the same lullaby he had repeated nearly every night since Ezran’s mother died when he was an infant.
“The Sun is down, and the M
oon is high.
Baby yawns wide with a sleepy sigh.
The Sky fills up with Stars that blink.
Baby’s eyelids start to sink.
The Ocean kisses the Earth good night.
The waves say hushhh … little babe, sleep tight.”
Ezran smiled. “I love that you still sing that to me. Even though it’s for little kids, it makes me happy.”
“Good,” the king answered.
“Will you still sing it to me when I’m grown-up? I want you to.”
“If you still want me to, then yes.”
“Even when I’m king? You have to promise me that you’ll still sing to me.”
Harrow hesitated but then answered, “I will always watch over you, even when you are king.”
He leaned over and pressed a warm kiss into Ezran’s forehead. This was always the moment Ezran yawned, feeling so sleepy, so suddenly.
“Good night, sweet prince,” Harrow said on his way to the door. He paused at the adjoining room. “And good night, Callum.”
Ezran’s older half brother, Callum, sat by an easel in the connecting room. He had a blanket draped around his shoulders and a gloved hand wrapped around a mug of tea. He sketched rapidly by the candlelight.
“’Night!” Callum answered without looking up from his drawing. He liked King Harrow, and he appreciated everything the king had done for him since his mother died, but the king wasn’t Callum’s dad. Sometimes the good-nights felt awkward.
Harrow slipped out, closing the door behind him.
Callum continued sketching. The fourteen-year-old could draw anything he had seen in perfect detail, even if he’d only seen it for an instant. But this sketch was from his imagination—a fantastical creature that was part giraffe, part alligator. Callum thought to himself that the “girrafigator” might look awkward, but it literally had a thick skin if anyone tried to tease it. And besides, if it needed to teach one of its tormentors a lesson, having a long neck that culminated in sharp teeth and powerful jaws might come in handy.
CRASH!
A sudden clap of thunder startled Callum from his thoughts.
“Callum!”
“It’s okay, Ez,” Callum called. He put down his pencil and went over to his kid-brother’s bed. “It’s just a thunderstorm. Nothing to be afraid of. Go back to sleep.”
“I wasn’t scared,” Ezran said. “Bait was scared.”
At the sound of his own name, Bait looked up with a frown and turned a deep shade of red. He did not appreciate any suggestion of cowardice on his part. He’d met many a glow toad in his day and knew that he was in the bravest five percent. Or at least the bravest ten percent.
But Bait could never stay angry at Ezran for long. His color faded as he fell back to sleep.
Lightning flashed, and the elves saw the human soldier patrolling the royal forest. The young man was on high alert, his eyes darting left and right as he scanned the thicket.
Rayla, the youngest of the team of elves, rubbed the handles of her blades with her long elven fingers. Did the soldier realize they were watching from the brush? Could he know that his very existence hung in the balance?
If the elves’ leader, Runaan, gave her the signal, Rayla would take the soldier’s life. She’d have no choice. She was an assassin, after all, and a fine one at that. She was swift with her blades and nimble on her feet. She could run and jump through the tall trees as well as any of her elders. Rayla would do anything Runaan asked of her.
Walk away, Rayla chanted in her mind, as if she could will the young soldier to leave his post. Don’t see us. Go home.
The elves’ mission had little to do with this particular human. He was just an annoyance on the journey to their true targets. They’d leave him alone if they could. But if the soldier spotted them … Rayla tried to stop thinking about it.
“Is anyone there?” the soldier called out into the darkness. He sounded confident, maybe even brave, and Rayla knew this did not bode well for him.
The elves stayed still. Rayla held her breath. One second passed. Then another.
“Declare yourself, in the name of King Harrow!” the human shouted.
Just a few more seconds of silence, Rayla thought to herself. A few more seconds, and he’ll realize it was nothing and keep moving. Could the soldier hear her pounding heart?
Another flash of lightning brightened the sky, and the human’s eyes grew wide. There was no question about it now. He had seen them.
He fired an arrow from his crossbow in their general direction, then turned on his heel and raced away.
In the blink of an eye, Runaan signaled with an almost imperceptible nod of his head.
Did he nod at me? Rayla wondered. No one else flinched. Yes, he must have chosen me. Now I am death for this soldier.
Her training kicked in, all the actions and reactions she had practiced endlessly became instinct in this moment, and she sprinted after her prey. Killing this human was her duty now, nothing more.
The soldier ran down the path as fast as a human could, his bulky cloak flapping in the wind, his clunky weapons slowing him down.
But Rayla was a creature of the woods. She leaped from tree branch to tree branch, her feet barely grazing the bark before she sprang to her next perch. She soared over the forest, always anticipating the target’s next move. Faster and faster Rayla pursued, closing in on the soldier with each leap. The rain stung her cheeks. The putrid smell of the storm overwhelmed her senses. She’d never felt more alive.
The target was just out of reach now.
Rayla paused on a branch, her violet eyes narrow and sparkling in the dark woods. Then she leaped to the ground behind the soldier.
The soldier whipped around, but Rayla was already back in the darkness. She watched as he swung his crossbow wildly.
Get out there! Rayla told herself.
Before she could rethink it, she burst from the shadows and delivered a swift kick to the human’s chest. He tumbled down a ravine into a river of mud. Rayla followed.
At the bottom, the soldier tried to fight, but it was pointless; Rayla had her blades at his neck in an instant.
“Please!” he begged. His panicked eyes took in her intricate weapons.
Do it now! Rayla thought. Hesitation is torture, not mercy … A swift execution was the only kindness she could offer.
The soldier was peering up at her now, searching for her face beneath the hood of her cloak.
“Who are you?” he asked softly.
Another flash of lightning. The target’s face was illuminated for a moment, but a moment was all it took. Rayla saw the soldier’s fear. She saw his sadness. She could almost hear his thoughts: I’m going to die. I’m going to die.
But she also saw his love for life and the promises it held for him—promises she would sever with her blades. She let her grip on her weapons loosen ever so slightly.
The soldier took his chance and crawled backward in the mud. Then he ran.
Rayla dropped her arms to her sides and hung her head, her will melted in the storm. Why was she so weak?
She stood still as a statue while the target made his escape.
Dawn shimmered over the damp forest. Birds chirped in the pink early-morning light. But inside the castle walls, the mood was still stormy.
Viren, the high mage, stood in front of an ornate mirror and grimaced in frustration. He traced one of the golden runes around its edges with a single, deliberate finger. If only he could unlock the secrets of this magical glass!
But the only revelation was his reflection—stern, tall, and finely dressed. His perfectly polished hair and clenched jaw made a silent mockery of his desire to know the mirror’s secrets. His intuition told him the mirror would offer power—power to protect himself, his family, and the kingdom. But though he’d possessed the mirror for months, he’d yet to uncover any of its mysteries.
Viren glanced at the stack of leather-bound tomes on his desk. None of his spells or potions had divul
ged the mirror’s secrets. Was it possible this was nothing but a mirror?
No, he scolded himself. If the Dragon King and Queen kept the mirror in their lair, next to where they slept, it could not be ordinary. It simply could not be! And if it was an ordinary mirror, it would not have called to him so strongly that day—called to him on a level so deep, he had seized the mirror from the great heights of the Storm Spire and carried it all the way back to the castle from Xadia.
He wasn’t defeated yet; he was just missing something, some crucial clue.
Viren took a deep breath and pushed his exasperation deep within himself, into the ever-growing tomb of regrets, grudges, and vendettas buried inside him. He had risen to challenges before; he would rise to this one too. Most of the mysteries of Xadia had already fallen away before his formidable magic abilities, after all. His forays into the treacherous world of dark magic had been costly, of course. He’d lost loved ones and money, even sacrificed some principles, but perhaps all this effort was finally starting to pay off.
BANG! BANG!
Urgent pounding on the study doors startled Viren out of his reverie. Who would dare disturb him at this early hour? He would quickly put an end to this impudence.
“And how can I help you?” Viren said as he swung open the door. His voice was soft and cold and dangerous.
The young soldier standing in the doorway trembled. He was wet and covered head to toe in mud. A stream of blood trickled down his cheek.
“You’ve interrupted me!” Viren said. “What is it? Speak up, would you?”
The soldier choked back a sob.
“Oh, for goodness’ sake, get a hold of yourself, young man.”
The soldier spit his words out before he could lose his courage.
“Lord Viren, I’ve seen something. Something terrible in the royal forest.”
Viren took a long, hard look at the soldier. Although he wanted to dismiss the sniveling brat, there was something in his face that made Viren pause. This soldier had been shaken to his core.
“I was out on my patrol, you see, and then there was lightning, and I saw a group … a group of assassins. One of them chased me. She had blades twice the size of her arms. I thought for sure I was a goner. But somehow, I got away. The assassin—well, I think she may have decided to spare me. I ran straight to you.”
